


Three for a Girl

by Dalee



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Anachronism, Attempted Murder, Battle Family, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Minor Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Multi, Past Character Death, selectively canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28414830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalee/pseuds/Dalee
Summary: Millennia ago, Lykon had fought in some of the greatest military campaigns the world had ever seen. He’d had a hand in the conquest of more lands and peoples than these fanatics would ever know.If he had to, he would burn this entire country to the ground to save hisagápes.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Lykon, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Lykon & Quynh | Noriko
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Three for a Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Link to aforementioned Wikipedia page [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greek_words_for_love).
> 
> Inspired by [this post](https://shortdalee.tumblr.com/post/638797067716820992/apfelgranate-quyhns-the-old-guard-2020-dir).
> 
> Title inspired by the modern version of [“One for Sorrow.”](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/One_for_Sorrow_\(nursery_rhyme\)) While I resent the implication that a daughter is bad luck, the modern version felt more fitting than the previous versions listed.
> 
> Hover over the words in italics for translations.
> 
> **Do not use, edit, or repost this work, even with credit.** This fic should be found on Archive of Our Own (AO3) and only on AO3.

I look ahead to all the plans that we made  
And the dreams that we had  
I’m in a world that tries to take ’em away  
Oh, but I’m taking ’em back

—3 Doors Down, “It’s Not My Time”

* * *

Archery wasn’t Lykon’s specialty. He was skilled in it, of course, Andromache believed it crucial that they be skilled in a wide range of weaponry, but it wasn’t his first choice for battle.

But this was _Quỳnh’s_ bow, heavy in hand and familiar in ways only one of their group’s weapons could be. He’d helped her clean this bow and tune it for millennia, had waxed the bowstrings those nights she’d died, back to their sleeping rolls as Andromache spoke to her in low tones. As words morphed into other sounds.

He wasn’t the same soldier he’d been all those years ago when a _dóry_ , _xífos_ , and _aspís_ were all he knew how to use. Not since Andromache and Quỳnh had found him. He knew their weapons intimately now, was beginning to know Yusuf’s and Nicolò’s swords just as well.

No, archery wasn’t Lykon’s specialty, and he didn’t think it would ever be.

That didn’t make him any less an archer.

With Quỳnh’s voice in his ear—

_You must be patient, Lykon,_ she’d taught him, hand on his back. _You cannot go to your quarry. You must wait for your quarry to come to **you.**_

—he notched an arrow and waited.

A group of men dragged an iron coffin. A man in white held a wooden cross up to the coffin as it shook in its chains, Quỳnh’s screams echoing from within.

The men dragging the coffin had to be his first target, but he would get the man in white, too. He would kill the man who could look Quỳnh in the eyes as she screamed that desperate, terrified scream and listen to it without hesitating, without caring about the cruelty they were enacting.

_You must be patient, Lykon._

He waited still.

When he was sure that they were it, that there was no one else coming, no reinforcements, when they paused to board the ship—were the going to toss her overboard, **_into the ocean?_** —he let the arrow fly. Then another and another and _another._

Signal given, Yusuf and Nicolò descended, and the fight was over as quickly as it begun.

He hadn’t killed the man in white, but he settled himself with the knowledge that Yusuf had, a slash to the back as the man had run and then through his skull when he’d fallen and tried to crawl away.

No matter how much he ached to, he didn’t climb down from his nest as Yusuf and Nicolò quickly cleaned and sheathed their weapons. He remained, bow and arrow at the ready, as they ran their hands over the coffin, trying to find the latches. He saw their lips moving as they spoke to Quỳnh, her screams having diminished into shatteringly relieved sobs.

“We’ll get you out, Quỳnh,” he read from Nicolò’s lips.

“You’re safe,” he saw Yusuf promise.

And still he waited. He would not take any chances. No, he would stay here, watching over them, _just in case._

When Yusuf and Nicolò finally got the damn thing open, Yusuf caught Quỳnh as she fell. She buried her face in his chest immediately, and Lykon could see the shake in her shoulders as she heaved and cried, the sounds audible even in his little nest.

Nicolò raised his head to look at Lykon, then raised his hand to make a sign in the air. _Plan?_

It would be smart to retreat, to go back to their temporary camp and regroup. He wouldn’t take Quỳnh back with him, he’d _never_ bring her back there, but he could take either Yusuf or Nicolò with him. Together, they’d make short work of the town, find Andromache, and free her.

_Retreat,_ he signaled back. And then, _I go._

Nicolò only nodded sharply in response, unsurprised and not judging him for his haste.

Lykon stayed in his nest and watched the three leave, made sure they weren’t followed and that they were _safe,_ before he dared to climb down, taking extra care not to damage the bow in any way. Quỳnh would want it back afterwards, would run her fingers over the nicks and scratches that’d been made when her bow had been taken from her.

And when he found Andromache, when Andromache saw Quỳnh quietly upset, they’d go hunting together, ostensibly to make sure their weapons were up to par despite Lykon having done that exact same thing when he’d recovered them. They’d return to camp with sticks in the hair, their clothes rumpled, and Yusuf and Nicolò would smile at them, but they’d check Lykon’s reaction, still so shy of publicly expressing their own affections, still so unsure of relationships beyond that between a single man and a single woman. They’d relax when Andromache and Quỳnh would both stop to drop a kiss on his head, Andromache whispering, “Next time?” in his ear as she pulled away, and they’d all be back to how they’d always been.

They’d be together. They’d be _safe._

As he approached the town, Lykon stowed Quỳnh’s bow safely at his back and exchanged it for his _aspís_ and Andromache’s axe.

Andromache had been worshipped as a god once upon a time. Lykon, who’d watched his own gods fall through the centuries, who’d dreamt of these women from the moment Hades had been barred to him, would _gladly_ unleash that god’s wrath upon these people.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I’d thought this would be longer and would include Lykon rescuing Andy and reassuring her that they got Quỳnh, that she was safe, but it felt like a natural end there, so that’s what I ended up going with.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcome. Constructive criticism, not so much.
> 
> Feel free to swing by [my tumblr](https://shortdalee.tumblr.com/) and poke around! I promise I don’t bite. ;)


End file.
